Run and Other Words that Changed the Future
by mermaidpotato
Summary: A collection of Doctor Who drabbles, mostly Doctor/Rose centered. I'm currently uploading all that I have written, and beyond that it will update only sporadically.
1. A Conscious Desire

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of their brilliant characters, sadly. If I did, I think I would die of excitement and an over-inflated ego. All I own are my words, and I'm content with that. Steal, and I will unleash the dogs.

A/N: Again, a set of 100-word drabbles, this time for Doctor Who. I have a massive backlog of them, and since I'm trying to bury the Twilight fics, I'm pretty just posting all of them. Because of this, I'm also not going in order. Most of them will be Doctor/Rose, but not quite all of them. Most of them are sad and/or introspective, but there are at least two that are fluffy at this point in time.

This particular drabble is a bit of a strange idea for me, since I have a romanticist streak and I'll usually use their hands as an example of how they fit. But everyone else writes that too, so a bit of a different take on the issue. (I promise the rest of the A/N's will be shorter. This one had to cover all the bases first.)

* * *

There was nothing special about her hand. Physically, it was just another hand; muscles, sinew, and bone underneath skin. The contours of it weren't different from any other enough to be unusual. Hers didn't fit into his as if they were made to.

It didn't need to. It was a part of _her_, and she was plenty special. Despite the fact that hers didn't fit any better than the next hand, he wanted to hold it because it meant holding her. There was nothing special about her hand, which made his need to cling to it all the more so.


	2. Armageddon's Ashes

A/N: Have I mentioned that I'm not a fan of Journey's End? Had a hard time naming this one.

* * *

It's not a fairytale kiss. It's not a kiss of want or purity or true love. It's a kiss of _need_. Because he's a patchwork man, lost without place or purpose now that crisis has passed, and she's a weary traveler tired of struggling, hardly even human anymore. He's there, and she's there, and they're both broken beyond repair, clutching desperately to the shadow of something that once made them better. It's not what they want, but they were both reborn into battle, and even before that, their life was never straightforward. They knew they'd never get 'happily ever after.'


	3. Dance of the Stars

A/N: This isn't my only dancing analogy, be warned. This is also one of the stranger ones.

* * *

Once, there were two suns with their own systems. One was huge and powerful: destroying, fixing and giving light all at once. He had lost his most important planet, and now his gravity tugged at the universe. The other was small and bright; all pink and yellow and harmlessly cocooned in safe, familiar planets. Until the brilliant supernova came and blew one up, tempting her with his gravity.

The supernova came and passed several times before he pulled her in. After an awkward adjustment, they found a spider-web orbit together.

Now, the twin suns shine brightly in their ever-changing dance.


	4. Dancing Through Time

A/N: This is actually the first drabble I ever wrote, and also one of my favorites. Took a little while to get the right balance of words, but it set the tone for a lot of my other drabbles. A pretty good start, I think.

* * *

Sometimes, Rose thought her life with the Doctor was rather like a dance. The TARDIS was their wonderful music player with a mind of it's own. Whenever they bothered to get ready for the dance, to prepare, she would decide that she had a better song in mind. Sometimes, it would create an unexpected moment of something remarkably close to romance, and others it would just throw them completely off-kilter.

But, she thought as the Doctor held out his hand to lead her in their next dance, it was amazing. Gratefully, she took his hand. Wouldn't miss it for anything.


	5. Dream Diary

A/N: Inspired by the episode Human Nature (which I'm really not fond of for the fact that John Smith is a bumbling bafoon, though who couldn't love the ending?), though it doesn't really have a whole lot to do with it any more. Save the title.

* * *

Hazel eyes danced across the page, lined with rows of messy pen marks that gave Rose the distinct impression of a student's cramped-handed geometry homework. Really, she knew, the TARDIS simply didn't want to translate. Seeing the unfamiliar script was just a tad unsettling, but she flipped through the pages anyway. She didn't even try to read them; just admired their awkward grace and wondered.

About to flip yet another page, a familiar hand stilled hers. She glanced up to see the Doctor. "Don't," he whispered.

When her eyes fell back to the book, the face they found was hers.


	6. Fairy Tale Endings

A/N: I also wrote a much longer oneshot in the same key involving phoenixes. Don't get me wrong; I love David Tennant. I'm as big of a 10/Rose fan as a 9/Rose fan. It's just... the whole adjusting-to-regeneration thing creates such brilliant angst.

* * *

It was a fairytale kiss. The leather-clad prince took his weakened sleeping beauty into his arms and, like magic, kissed everything out of her. It was full of golden light; soft and sweet and pure. For a moment, they could both believe in fairy tales.

But this wasn't how it was supposed to end. The prince, however afraid of domestic, was supposed to stay and make her Queen of the Universe. Even if that was impossible, he was most certainly not supposed to die. Or send a replacement.

How could her prince think that this jester could take his place?


	7. Hand Bones

A/N: This is something I thought up after someone called Martha's bones-of-the-hand scene in Human Nature her defining moment or scene or whatever. I don't like Martha much, but it made me think. I don't particularly like the wording of this one; I needed more room. But it really isn't enough of an idea to be expanded; it could only really work as a drabble. I did a lot of other things like this one once I ran out of episodes in season 4, trying to define what a companion was or find some linking trait. This one, as I said, isn't the best.

* * *

The Doctor's life is defined of course by the time he travels through and the people he meets, but that's only part of it.

Rose Tyler was a hand to hold when the Doctor needed one most.

Jack Harkness was the keeper of his hand when there was simply no way back.

Martha Jones was the knowledge of hand bones when no woman should have known.

Donna Noble was the one who touched the hand and merged with him when all hope was lost.

The Doctor's life is always changed by a hand held out at just the right moment.


	8. Living InBetween

A/N: Because Rose is smarter than she looks.

* * *

He said he'd show her the universe, but that wasn't it; not really. He showed her the Earth. First, its destruction, and then everything before and in-between and after. That was one of the first things she learned, between her first trip forward and her first trip back; everything ends. Doesn't mean it can't be fantastic in the meantime.

Then the hypocrite stands there and tells her that's why they can't be together. Not in so many words, but it's what he means.

She's not asking for the rest of his life. She's just asking not to be left behind.


	9. Loss

A/N: This one was really hard to fit into 100 words, but I somehow managed to cram in everything I wanted to say in the end. I'm fairly happy with it.

* * *

Rose Tyler had lost many things. She was no stranger to loss. She'd lost old friends: Shareen, Mickey, her alternate mum. She'd lost strangers: Gwyneth, Lynda, the Ood. She'd lost enemies who still had a chance: Cassandra, the Dalek in Utah, the cybermen restored their humanity. She'd lost people she wasn't even supposed to have: Jack, her father, the part of her Doctor that was gruff character wrapped in leather.

Still, even through all the shed tears over everyone she couldn't save, she had the Doctor and the TARDIS. Losing them hurt more than anything else. It made her empty.


	10. My Own Ghost

A/N: Since even I forgot what this one was written about for a while; here's the context. Read it first if you want to puzzle it out. In Father's Day, Rose's past changed so that she was in the story of her father's death. I thought that, somewhere deep, deep down, her highly impressionable young self would also see a glimpse of her future self. Life-long deja-vu. One of my many in-depth thoughts on the subject, though I can't quite shake the abruptness of the ending.

* * *

Every time I look in the mirror, I see a familiar woman. It's somehow separate from it being my own face. I'm always dumbstruck at the initial impression that I'm someone else, that I've seen myself somewhere other than the silvery surface before.

It's unsettling. And, that morning, when I donned the pink shirt and denim jacket, when I twisted my hair up out of my face and one fleeting glimpse in the mirror almost made me keel over, I should've stopped.

But I didn't. I had a vague niggling that something wasn't right. I thought I was _fixing_ it.


	11. Not Even Her Forever

A/N: Just wanted to say this; according to the fanfiction wordcount, my last A/N was a drabble. :D This one is... just depressing. I like it, but it's depressing.

* * *

Forever. She said forever. She hadn't given much thought to it at the time, but only because she didn't need to. It was something that she thought about in every moment of life-or-death; every trip home when he reminded her she could stay. She couldn't. That life just wasn't hers anymore.

At the time, she hadn't meant it to mean anything. It was just a reassurance; a reminder. But now, as she stood on the beach of her nightmares for the second time, holding his hand as she watched him leave, she couldn't help but feel she'd broken a promise.


	12. One Vote

A/N: Because Amy Pond is even better than Rose. Another one that was just one attempt to answer a question I've written many versions of. She's been the one who refuses to forget; the only one who remembers, and then she decides to forget. I needed an explanation. I have one now, but I needed one then.

* * *

Amy Pond has seen something she was now never supposed to see. It's not the same as with the Space Whale, but all the same, it is. Once again, she stands between the buttons "forget" and "protest." Everyone else had seen and forgotten, and even if he'd never been anymore, Rory was a part of her timeline. She could protest it; be the only one who railed out against the universe even though she alone could do nothing, or she could forget.

Once again, Amy stands at the crossroads of doing something or turning away and takes the coward's path.


	13. Run

A/N: Brevity, in the spirit of their beginning.

* * *

Panic. Radiating from every part of her being. Somewhere, she knows this is _not_ a joke. She's surrounded, breath catching in her throat, unable to scream. Shock, panic, terror… mind clouded with fear. No way out.

A hand latches onto her, and she knows. It's all over. Her head snaps around, expecting the faceless mask of the end that she somehow knows is coming, because it _is_ more than a joke. Instead, her eyes meet a face. The face of an angel; the face of help. Immediately, she sees the good in him.

"Run," he whispers. The adrenaline kicks in.


	14. Same Difference

A/N: I like doing a lot of these drabbles that connect nine and ten. The transition from one to the next fascinates me... ten to eleven does, too, but I don't have enough of a handle on him to feel confident writing him yet.

* * *

A manic grin below hair that, all at once, both exists and doesn't. Hands shove through it, just as likely to travel downwards from their start. One always reaches out for hers, speaking louder than the oft-senseless words that travel between them; always joking, regardless of the pitch. Calluses appear and fade from different ways of going about the same work.

Two very different men, exactly the same nonetheless. One is fresher in her memory, but the other is more used to being remembered.

She spent the same amount of time with each, and now they both haunt her dreams.


	15. She Fell for Him

A/N: This is... just kinda depressing. A cynical look on the Doctor's effects on his companions. Must've been depressed as all get out when I wrote this... and I wish I had a few more words to say at least _something_ about the landing. But I don't. So I can't.

* * *

The adventure was a strong chain, tethering her ankle to the sky as she tried to learn to fly. The twelve months took away the ground she had once stood on, leaving a hole in its place.

She couldn't go back, because all that was left to do was fall. Hard as she tried, she couldn't fly on her own. The position wasn't one she much minded, since she had left home for adventure in the first place, but some part of her still missed the option.

When she finally had to let go, she still couldn't fly. She fell.


	16. Textbook Paradox

A/N: Wrote this on vacation when I was curious as to just what good old Merriam Webster had to say about paradoxes. Made a lot more sense at the time. The main paradox it speaks of is Bad Wolf; something that simply was even though it couldn't be.

* * *

According to the dictionary, a paradox is a statement or situation that seems to be a contradiction but reveals the truth. When it comes to the Doctor, the contradiction is inherent in his dealing with it; he says not to become involved in your own past, though his own is littered with cross-overs.

Rose Tyler is no stranger to paradoxes, either. A woman with her compassion traveling in time makes mistakes. But today-or tomorrow or yesterday-Rose Tyler became part of something special.

The truth in this paradox is one older than the universe despite everything: Rose Tyler loves the Doctor.


	17. The Universe's Kiss

A/N: Strangely enough, written months after I watched Journey's End. Just a thought... because I like poking fun at that episode.

* * *

A Human-Time Lord Metacrisis is a swirling, unpredictable combination. They could never have known what they were going to get. It turns out he was Time Lord enough to be telepathic and human enough to have trouble controlling it.

So, when two broken souls touch and a kiss simply happens, they had no way of knowing that it would overpower his control. That the real Doctor could feel it with more than five senses.

The overpowering _rightness_ of how it feels is why he turns. Because the ghost of her lips is the universe whispering that it should be him.


	18. Walking on Clouds

A/N: This always makes me think of the Doctor, walking on a tightrope way up in the clouds, and walking off like in a cartoon; not falling until he realizes it and looks down. Hence the title. One of my favorites.

* * *

He continually finds himself struggling to make out the line between friend and boyfriend. It's one he treads carefully along. After all, while he wants as much of Rose as possible, it can't be denied that living with your girlfriend-even in a space-and-time machine-is domestic. He doesn't do domestic.

Holding hands is okay, and hugging is fine on occasion, but verbal openness is forbidden, no matter how often he forgets. That's not so bad, though; words can always be diminished.

Then there's a kiss, and his new eyes see that he has long since lost the line he once walked.


	19. Alignment

A/N: These next couple drabbles are ones where I've used the random word generator for a little springboard. Single-word prompts. This one is alignment. The Doctor is a coward, any day.

* * *

The stars never align just right. They have all of time and space, and yet they just can't seem to find the perfect moment. He knows, more than he cares to admit, that he loves her. Fear and the universe itself both hold him back, and even when he thinks he might have found the right moment, it slips through his fingers before he can test the waters.

People, like Captain Jack; forces, like the Beast; mistakes, like Reinette. When finally a supernova and a black hole create the perfect alignment, even time itself decides to step in the way.


	20. Equivalent

A/N: Random word drabble; equivalent. Sorry that a lot of these are very Doctor/Rose one-and-only crap. It took me a while to get over the whole thing. A lot of them are really good, though, and I'm still a Doctor/Rose shipper. Just not as obsessively.

* * *

The memory of Rose was a gaping hole in his hearts. He never did find someone to fit it quite right. And oh, how he tried. Donna kept him alive; forced him to keep going when he was at his lowest. Martha was someone to travel with, but she expected too much of him.

For a while, when he had only one heart worth of holes to fill, he thought he'd found someone in Joan Redfern. Though she was full of compassion, in the end she's just another Reinette.

He's traveled across universes, and there's only ever been one Rose.


	21. Heel

A/N: Fluff? *le gasp* Random word drabble; heel. Oh, the hilarity.

* * *

"Why do I listen to you? Nothing can ever be 'just a party' when you're around!"

"Oi! How is it my fault that the slaves picked today to rebel?"

"'S not. But you're the one that told me to wear bloody heels!" Despite the breakneck pace and the aliens hot on their heels, one of the offending shoes sails right for his head.

"Oi!"

"Just be glad I haven't thrown the other one yet!" She brandishes the other like a weapon, and he cringes.

"Don't you even care about the shoes? Important thing, footwear…" The remaining one cuts him off.


	22. Innocence

A/N: Because Davros's remark hit too close to home. Random word drabble; innocence.

* * *

It's physically painful for him to watch her shoot the Dalek, and Davros's later words cut deep. Rose had once been so innocent; so full of life. She'd once been a shop girl eagerly seeing the universe, breath taken away by the simplest of things. Once, she had fought to save the life of just one of the murderers.

Now, not only has she wiped out an entire fleet in a reckless attempt to save his life, but she's shot one. Shot more than one, if her readiness was any indication.

The Doctor; Destroyer of not of worlds, but innocence.


	23. Introduction

A/N: I wish I did more one-sided conversation pieces like this. I love the style. Random word drabble; introduction.

* * *

"Run!" He tells her, and she isn't sure she understands a single word after. He's an intolerable whirlwind, but when he's on the opposite side of the door, she suddenly feels bereft.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?" She stutters it out, still trying to shake the cold left in his wake.

"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life!" She doesn't want to leave, but he's a madman, so she does.

"You could… come with me." How? She can hardly keep up with him.

"Did I mention it travels in time?" …Maybe that doesn't matter.


	24. Proving

A/N: Meh. Random word drabble; proving.

* * *

Everything Rose did became an effort to prove herself to him. She abandoned her family and continually stood up for what she thought right-even against him. Everyone said that he was rubbing off on her, but that wasn't entirely true. She strove to be like him so he'd be proud. It just became second nature to her.

She didn't have to, though. What really impressed him were the days when she was nothing like him. Days when she showed compassion, like in Utah, or when she tried her hardest without him and failed, like with the Sycorax or the Wire.


	25. Restaurant

A/N: Because, as important as that day at the chippy must've been, it'd be a crime to try and write it down. Setting the tone for the Doctor and Rose; a random word drabble on 'restaurant'.

* * *

They sit at a booth, talking about everything and nothing all at once. The end of her world, the things that come after; the adventures he's had and the things she's wasted her life away with.

The greasy chips aren't fantastic, and they've both had better, but that's not the point. This is where they stop being strangers and start being friends. They won't come to know everything in one day, but it's a whole lot better than the sparse details they had before.

When they leave, there is no more question of her staying. It's what they both need.


	26. Need

A/N: I wrote these a while ago, on a whim. Saw someone drabble through the dictionary definitions of a single word. Thought this one particularly fit with the Doctor and Rose, so I wrote these; seven in total, a mix of Nine and Ten (also, drabbles and double drabbles; I wasn't quite so good at condensing yet, at the time). I might do this again, though; it was fun.

As far as the break from procedure goes, thought it would be silly to upload them to seperate chapters since they're one series, despite being completely unrelated. Enjoy.

* * *

**need** [need]

_**1) a requirement, necessary duty, or obligation**_

"Doctor?" Rose asked with a smile, her tongue peeking cutely out between her teeth.

"Yes, Rose?" I asked with a smile, trying to pretend I knew exactly what was going on around me and that my entire magnificent Time Lord consciousness wasn't focused on the brilliant little twenty-first century human sitting beside me at the table.

She giggled, and it made my hearts melt. She always knew just how to do that, especially dressed up in period clothes like she was. "It's been two hours. The world kinda needs saving, remember?"

"Ah," I mumbled, standing up with reluctance, "quite right…"

_**2) a lack of something wanted or deemed necessary**_

I stared at the white wall which had, a few seconds ago, been a menacing, glowing portal to someplace that shouldn't exist. Not to us.

I slumped up against it, tears pouring freely down my cheeks. I didn't care; I hurt too much to keep it inside and my mascara was devastated. My life had crumbled around me, everything once holding it together sucked off by the Void. Breaking down was only to be expected.

I pounded my empty hands against it desperately, stinging as much from loss as from the impact. They hadn't been able to hold onto the lever, so now they didn't get to hold his hand. They had been torn from their proper place there; punishment for their inability to hold onto everything precious.

He _and_ his hands were an impossible distance away, where I would never reach them. Never again would I see him smile, never again would I hold his hand or run beside him or dance with him because "_everyone lived!_"

I needed him. I needed his support and guidance and the motivation I found in simply catching a glimpse of his smile. I needed him, still _need_ him, and now he's gone.

_**3) urgent want, as of something requisite**_

It was cramped in the back of my mind. It's like watching yourself walk about in a dream, unable to control anything. Parts of me felt entirely gone, my consciousness stripped down to the barest essence of me. It was impossible to lie or pretend; every thought raw and unfiltered.

Cassandra's mind dominated over me, but I still had some small influence on her actions. My immediate reaction to the Doctor's new, lithe form made her stop and gawk. It drew "her" eyes straight to the parts of him I'd been trying not to stare at.

Without my shield in the way; with Cassandra unskilled and unused to filtering out such strong emotion by thinking of the consequences, it was easy to slip. Her barely-restrained eagerness to try out the human parts she had been without wasn't helping.

My eyes were drawn to his lips as they moved. They moved so much. I wanted just to capture them-put that movement to real use. And then he, expectedly, noticed that something was off, and my need for him mingled with Cassandra's need to shut him up, only one solution presenting itself. My lips collided with his, my need taking over completely.

_**4) necessity arising from the circumstances of a situation or case**_

"I'm telling you, you need to take it off," Rose protested impatiently as they ran.

"No!" The expected response returned, fueled by classic Time Lord pride.

"It's not like you've never taken the thing off! You weren't born with it on, and I've seen you without it!"

"But the pockets-"

"I don't bloody care! These things eat leather! Now take it off!" Rose's demand left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, transferring as much as he could from his impossible jacket pockets to those of his jeans, he peeled the coat off and let the wind carry it to it's doom.

_**5) a situation or time of difficulty; exigency: **_**to help a friend in need**

He's rough-and-tumble; battle-scarred; a soldier. He's alone and in deep need. The silence in his head is maddening as worlds explode and crumble, falling apart all around him.

She's innocent; ignorant; hidden treasure. She has power and strength that she'd never believe, and all she lacks is an opportunity. Silently, desperately in need of something bigger, she wastes away a shop girl.

He whisks her off, giving her the piece of herself that she was missing wrapped in the fabric of space and time. She runs beside him, and her laugh fills the empty silence that haunts the dark recesses of his mind.

They complete each other, filling the holes. They need each other, much more than they let on.

His need is desperate; burning. She is his conscience and companion, the only friend he has. He works to hide it; to cover it with a façade of smiles and excitement, but in moments of danger, it shines through.

Her need is softer; a matter of strength, not of survival. He helps her along as she laughs and smiles and tries to help him. She doesn't understand her own importance.

They are nothing to themselves, but everything to each other.

_**6) a condition marked by the lack of something requisite**_

On earth, she had been nothing. A London shop-girl-no A' levels; no credentials; no future. Day by day, she stayed put and consented to survive, trying to ignore the itch that she was missing out on something. Because after all, what could she do?

They said she needed A' levels and a job and a boyfriend and money and fame and all those things that wouldn't last. But it was too late for her; she'd picked Jimmy Stone and given all that up.

She doesn't, however, need those things _or_ Jimmy Stone. All her broken life needed was a Doctor.

_**7) destitution; extreme poverty**_

"What kind of date are you?" Rose asked, completely jokingly. She didn't really mind. How could she when he was giving her the whole universe?

The chips were expensive, but well worth their price. If not for the taste, then at the very least for the jokes and laughs that the pair shared over them. It was, undeniably, better than any date she could imagine.

How could she leave him? Leave the whole universe and the magnificent man himself? She knew her answer long before the chips were gone. After all, even an almighty Time Lord needs someone to pay.

* * *

1)Drabble, Ambiguous (written for ten, could work for nine)  
2)Double Drabble, Ambiguous  
3)Double Drabble, Ten  
4)Drabble, Nine  
5)Double Drabble, Ambiguous  
6)Drabble, Ambiguous  
7)Drabble, Nine


	27. Baby Steps

A/N: This is a series of drabbled I wrote a while ago; eight of them plus another hundred-word stretch for an 'epilogue'. It was an experiment of sorts, fairly early in my drabbling days, so some of the wording is still awkward. I was just musing one night about the way Rose's relationship with the Doctor progresses, and got to wondering how it might have continued if it weren't for Doomsday. Barring some jarring, traumatic confession (which, really, is the only way it could have happened with the two of them), this is how I see it happening. The most mundane way possible.

I had to fight to urge to edit these, as editing drabbles is a headache and I haven't done any in a while. I'm quite fond of most of them, though.

* * *

Part 1:

It wasn't something Rose thought about; taking his hand. It was how things started out, and there was never reason to stop. All Rose knew was that it felt right, far more right than any other man's hand had ever felt in hers, and she didn't dare question it. She quickly learned that the Doctor was a man of action, saving his words for when the universe needed them. And that was fine. The Doctor could speak without words, and Rose gleaned all the comfort she needed from his hand's gentle touch. She knew they spoke truth; fingertips don't lie.

Part 2:

He thought it began with "You look beautiful." Though, really, one could argue the first was "My planet's gone," or "Did I mention it travels in time?" Honestly, he couldn't say it hadn't begun with "run." All the Doctor knew was that this regeneration wasn't good with words, and he kept slipping up around Rose Tyler. It just felt so natural; talking to her. He never realized what he'd said until it was out in the open, reaching the part of his brain that remembered _why not_ the same time it reached Rose's ears. Problem was… he always meant it.

Part 3:

She had no idea when they'd started hugging, and she didn't care. Like holding his hand, she fell into it naturally. The contact was a comfort that she craved. As the hugging inched towards commonplace, their hands were rarely void of each other. It wasn't just when they ran, or when they faced danger. It was because they _could_. That's what every touch was; laughing in the face of the impossible odds that said they shouldn't be. Because, when you face danger and loneliness as much as they do, all you can do is laugh and hold on tight.

Part 4:

It just felt like a natural thing to do: He wasn't sure if he'd done it before, because he couldn't think of particulars, but he was fairly sure he had. Things with Rose were like that; he never noticed he'd taken a step closer until he was in the middle of the next. Not particularly caring, he pressed his lips to her forehead, trying not to whisper _goodbye_. Really, he wanted to kiss her full on right then and there, but she would have noticed. All their steps so far had gone slowly. This one could be no different.

Part 5:

Their first kiss, she didn't remember. Their second, she didn't want to. Their third, she barely noticed. It was in the midst of a 'we saved the universe from destruction and insanity' hug, she was fairly sure. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it; it was just so very brief. The only difference between it and his kisses to her forehead was that it landed about three inches lower. With how quickly it was over, she almost could have imagined it. Almost. It was the way he immediately began to ramble about moving forward that let her know she hadn't.

Part 6:

It didn't stop. Hugs and intertwined fingers didn't speak loudly enough anymore. Things like what they shared just grew, not content to be ignored. At first, the Doctor would always rush to cover up, leaving nobody's mind enough time to catch up. Inevitably, it soon became as natural as breathing. In the quiet of long nights, they relished the moments that the unspoken pact kept from being spoken of. Come morning, though, realization was gone. As they slid further down the path, neither truly realized the intimacy or the frequency of their sweet, brief brushes of lips. Their ignorance was bliss.

Part 7:

You would imagine it would only get so far before they would notice. But, as the Doctor is quick to point out, humans have a tendency to block out things they don't want to face. He doesn't realize Time Lords are no more immune. If neither of them notices; if neither says a word, then it doesn't end. Of course they notice, eventually, the steps closer to their unspeakable fantasies, but they pretend not to. They've got acting practice already; they already skillfully pretend friendship is all they want. Each façade just keeps the other acting. It's a vicious cycle, but, with their lives, one that's bound to break.

Part 8:

It takes a third party to notice. Jackie catches a glimpse of the Doctor, on his way out the door, catching Rose's lips in a not-entirely-chaste kiss.

"Oi! What're you doing kissing my daughter?"

Wide eyes rest atop red cheeks and dumbstruck mouths.

"Um, well…" the Doctor begins.

"It's just kinda… been going on," Rose finishes.

Words breached with neither protesting, they both smile. They clasp hands with a shared glance.

"Think I'm gonna walk with him, mum. We have a little to talk about."

Biting back smiles, they leave. Their next step is bound to be a little bigger.

Epilogue:

And such is the love story of Rose and the Doctor; of the relationship that never should have progressed beyond friends. But it did, stolen touches turning to stolen kisses until they came to see that the savored moments were gifts exchanged. Subtlety exposed by it's foil.

Progressing exponentially from there, as years of suppression were bound to lead into, they find another wonderful coincidence. For ever so long, they were drawing closer like a planetary dance; slowly but steadily. After the inevitable collision, they discover that their baby steps beget more baby steps of an even more unlikely variety.


End file.
